


A Flash In The Pan

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:01:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Sometimes the opportunity for the perfect con comes at the most unexpected times.  And if it includes a little pay-back for the interferring Major Kevin Richards, some titillation for the society ladies, gets Garrison to break out of that dignified officer mode, sets Actor back on his heels, and amuses the hell out of Goniff?  Well, so much the better.





	A Flash In The Pan

.  
Major Kevin Richards KNEW better than to let his sister and her society friends rope him into their activities. And this had all the makings of a disaster, right from the start, a tipsy group of the society set dropping in on Lieutenant Garrison at the Mansion. When Julie misled Sergeant Rawlins into delivering an imperial summons to the Dragon to join them, well, disaster wasn't the word! He KNEW her, knew she reacted to being forced to mingle with that crowd like a cat reacted to being forced into a cold bath. That is, she might not be able to prevent it, but there would be teeth and claws and snarling and likely blood drawn before it was over. 

 

They were in the common room, but no one was talking much because they were eavesdropping on the conversation taking place in the library next door. The 'toffs' were gathered there, Julie and Kevin Richards and a few friends, society type women, along with Lieutenant Garrison, much to his displeasure. HE hadn't invited them; they'd all shown up on the Mansion doorstep mid-evening, complete with potables, many of them being already rather top-lofty. He couldn't blame Major Richards too much; from the beleaguered look on the man's face, it was obvious this wasn't his idea, but had somehow gotten roped into it. For a stern military officer, the Major was hopeless at restraining his sister and her antics.

Meghada had been summoned from her cottage with a message that Major Richards and Lieutenant Garrison required her presence at the Mansion immediately, and in proper attire for meeting some important people. Garrison had been past annoyed, and way more than a little apprehensive when the Sergeant Major told him the young woman was on her way, and why and what the message had implied as to his own involvement. Obviously no one had asked Garrison's opinion, and he wondered if they'd asked Richards either, and a blunt question had assured him of that fact. If anything, Richards looked even more apprehensive, even a little green, at the thought; well, he HAD known the woman for quite awhile, knew she didn't like being cornered, didn't like being ambushed, and had no great liking for the upper crust and their airs and whims, and was known for being, well, unpredictable and occasionally outrageous. He knew she was known for a few other things as well, but he doubted she'd actually leave any bodies laying around, not in this venue.

Anyway, upon her arrival, well-groomed, red hair in a regal coronet, in a simple but elegant outfit easily the equal to any in the room (her not liking fuss and feathers and furbelows and thinking she did well enough without such), she had been cornered by Doris Faversham, close friend to Julie Richards, and hadn't been able to get away.

Well, she could have, but it seemed a bit much to use her fist on that heavily made up face, though admittedly tempting, and other than gagging the tall brunette with that ridiculous flirty little cocktail hat she was wearing perched on the side of her head, it seemed she couldn't get the irritating woman to shut up! Doris droned on and on, one thing after another, seeming to think Meghada, whom Doris insisted on calling Meg (or even Peggy) for some bizarre reason, was somebody important in the social scheme of things, and wasting herself out here 'in the absolute midst of nowhere, my darling, NOWHERE!' and only needed some well-placed encouragement to relocate to London and join their social set. Meghada was bored out of her mind!

First it was fashion, "the most adorably sweet boutique", then hairstyles, the most elegant nightclubs, that "lovely little place where you get those superb cocktails", then one thing after another, and now the silly twit was starting on eligible men. It was past annoying, it was starting to get embarrassing, and the redhead wasn't accustomed to letting herself be put in a position of being embarrassed. If it had been a man trying this nonsense, he'd have been taught his lesson long ago; in other surroundings even a woman would have been subject to some harsh response, but here, well, she felt constrained not to cause trouble for Garrison and the guys. {"I'd have to really hurt Garrison if I thought this was his doing, and as for Kevin, well . . ."} However, it had been obvious that Garrison and Richards had nothing to do with this; they both looked like there was a ticking bomb in the room; the poor Sergeant Major, appointed as bartender, actually was looking a bit ill. {"Not such a bad analogy, I suppose,"} taking into consideration her growing aggravation, {"if this doesn't come to an end soon, I believe I WILL explode!"}.

It had been bad enough when she could hear the clink of glasses next door, and the conversation, the occasional bickering over the lay of the cards. She'd heard all four voices, knew her lad was there with Chief, Casino and Actor, and she really wished she was in there with them. She would get some intelligent conversation and have some fun, get to watch the expressions flit and change on her blond laddie's face, enjoy the interaction between the guys, unlike what she was undergoing now. Now, though, with this new subject, there was dead silence and she just KNEW they were listening to every word, the rascals.

She had heard Actor laugh, knowing he was amused at the position she found herself in, knowing he was likely enjoying just a bit of friendly amusement at the expense of her own lad sitting at the table with him, having to listen to this woman try and set her up with someone else. And she felt her temper start to flare, as any who knew her might have expected it to. And her lad, he were right in there with the others, enjoying her misery, and here was Craig not doing a thing to stop this, and you'd have thought Kevin had more sense than to allow this, and these IDIOT females thinking she had any interest in any of the foolishness they were talking about, and this appalling woman thinking to pass judgement on the one SHE loved and had chosen, and she was losing her patience with the whole lot of them, and, well . . . (Her father had once described her temper as akin to watching a water spout form over the ocean, "just a brief whirl, then rapid acceleration, then WHOOSH! There she blows!!)

"But I don't WANT to go to dinner with him, Doris."

"But he's a Pendleton, you know! Clive is ever so good looking, tall and blond and such lovely broad shoulders," all delivered with the silliest drowning duck expression and a sigh worthy of Camille, "and he's so well educated, Oxford you know, and his family is one of the best, and although I know it's not supposed to be mentioned, he has a very nice income too. Not wages or anything crass like that, of course; 'income' from the trusts from his father, and grandfather, and I think maybe even an uncle or two. They say he's worth ever so much!"

"Doris, I don't want to go to dinner with him."

"But you'd enjoy yourself, I'm sure. He's a lovely dancer, and sees all the most popular plays, and goes to the symphony, and has a hunting box in, oh, wherever you are supposed to have a hunting box if you are among the tip-top."

"Doris, you're not listening to me. I don't want to go to dinner with him. I have no desire to go to dinner with him. And, I have no intention of going to dinner with him. Now, can we change the subject please?"

"Oh, you're just being stubborn!" She stopped talking, looked around the room quickly, and tucked her head down toward Meghada, looking rather like a goose, which was probably appropriate considering she sounded like one as well, continued, "now, I'm only telling you this for your own good, dear. There's been talk, you know, about your being seen with HIM, that person," and her voice dropped to what she might have intended to be a whisper, but really was just a more shrill, penetrating version of her usual voice, "that blond one in the next room! I saw him when we came in, with the others. I mean, really??! And those clothes! Well, I know it's military dress, but can't they find something that fits better; those simply hang off him! At least he'd seem a little more presentable, if still nowhere near acceptable of course! Well, I know it's all just nasty gossip, of course, and not a word of truth to it, but my dear, you just can't let that sort of talk go on. Someone like HIM?? Ever so common, and you KNOW what they say about him and the others!"

Her voice changed to what she thought of as discreet, "they've been in PRISON, dear, Heaven KNOWS what for!! And now, well, no one knows just WHAT they do, well maybe things that are helpful against that awful man in Germany, but nothing a gentleman would be involved in, you know!"

Meghada refrained from rolling her eyes, thinking of some of the things she'd been involved in since the war began, well, even before, {"really? Oh, let's all be gentlemen, far more important than what they are doing! Wonder what Clive bloody Pendleton has done??!"} knowing she might be doing the man an injustice; some of the toffs had been doing their part just fine, but at the moment she wasn't inclined to be generous; she was getting pissed! She brought her mind back to the babbling brook in front of her.

"Something like that, why, it would ruin your chances totally, you know. Even if it were that tall rather gorgeous Italian sort, well, while it might be more understandable, yes, really quite understandable," and the silly woman actually tittered, and from similar sounds coming from the other women, she knew every word was being overheard most avidly, {"I never quite knew what that word meant, but yes, that sound, that's what it's got to be alright - tittering - could hardly be anything else!",} "still, Peggy! And coming back to London, mixing with the right people again, going out to dinner with Clive and others like him, well, that would go a long way toward making people understand that what they're saying, well, it just isn't possible. That YOU would NEVER . . . Not with someone like THAT!!" If she hadn't been pretty sure Doris and the rest of them were too drunk to remember this conversation the next morning, she might have resisted, just thrown up her hands and walked out. Though she really didn't appreciate anyone saying her laddie wasn't good enough, was common; he was anything but that, quite rare in her opinion! And SHE didn't know why the military couldn't find him clothes that fit better either; she'd seen him in ones that did, and he was fair mouthwatering, to her way of thinking. But then, she rather thought that about him no matter what he was wearing, or even IF he was . . . Maybe especially IF he was . . . And she shivered at the thought of that 'if', and swallowed heavily. But that was leading in a direction she probably shouldn't head while she was stuck in the middle of this roomfull of idiots! But when she looked around the room, the only sober eyes were possessed by Craig Garrison, Kevin Richards, and the poor Sergeant Major. Yes, their eyes were sober. . . sober, appalled, apprehensive; there was even the start of a painful wince showing on Garrison's face. And the Sergeant Major, he was actually backing up toward the door, as if ready to make a run for it! And, well, with that and the silence from the next room, she just had to do it.

{"I mean, I don't really have a choice, do I! It would be just inexcusable to pass up an opportunity like this! Gabrielle would be ashamed of me!"}

"Well . . . when you put it that way . . ." pausing to let just a faint hint of consideration into her voice, a look of solemn reflection on her face, then quite firmly, "but, no, Doris, no. It just wouldn't be sensible, my dear, quite foolish in fact, and I do pride myself on not being a fool. Well, you DO know the old saying . . ." and she rattled off something in the purest, most perfectly pronounced Latin, listening for and hearing it, the deep gasp, and the sound of someone choking as a drink went down the wrong way, and the clink as a glass was sat down hard on the table next door.

{"Yes, I could have just said it in English the first time around, but it's much better this way!! Come on, Actor, breathe, I know you can do it!"} not having intended to totally incapacitate the man, just get him back a little for being so amused at the situation. It sounded like the other three were pounding that 'tall, rather gorgeous Italian sort' on the back vigourously. She knew Craig knew Latin and he looked like he couldn't decide between having a stroke or a laughing fit, and Kevin Richards, he just looked frozen, like he'd found a snake in his cocktail, those silver-grey eyes staring at that olive like it was going to bite him. She wasn't sure whether he'd understood what she'd said, or just had a good idea that she'd just pulled the pin on a grenade and was waiting to lob it at the group. Well, he HAD worked with her before. She though he just might be holding his breath.

Everyone else just looked blank, {"all of these so highly educated people!"} and she waited for it, waited just as she'd been taught, taking another sip of her drink and letting her gaze wander, as if the subject was closed and forgotten, letting it build. The choking had stopped in the next room and all was silent again; Meghada would have loved to see Actor's face, and the rest of the guys as well. She could imagine what Goniff's face looked like; he'd not have understood the Latin, at least she didn't think so but the man had surprised her more than once, but he knew her, and she could just see that look of sly anticipation, that one eyebrow cocked, grin waiting to spill over. He would not be doubting her; they were well past that, her and her love.

Doris cleared her throat gently, "Meg dear, I'm afraid my French is a little rusty, what does that mean?"

{"Yeah, I guess her 'French' IS a little rusty!"} Meghada thought with a giggle. She blinked and looked at Doris with a totally innocent face, as if she'd lost track of the conversation.

"What? Oh. . .well, as I said, Doris dear, I don't consider myself a fool. And, the saying, from one of the great courtesans, you know - I suppose a reasonable translation would be. . . 'Who would choose a flash in the pan over an all-night-man? Only a fool!' And Doris, those loose fitting clothes, well, sometimes he just needs a little extra 'space'," giving that word the most suggestive of intonations along with a bit of an appreciative wiggle, a twitch of her brow, and a knowing grin, "if you know what I mean??" and she had the joy of listening to the gasps and choking in this room now, plus one or two similar in the room next door, a very loud "SHIT, kid!" that could only have come from Casino, along with one totally delighted roar of laughter from a most familiar voice.

At least two glasses hit the floor in this room, one shattering, the other rolling across the floor, loudly sounding in the dead silence - klunk, klunk, klunk, klunk. Garrison was now facing the fireplace, leaning into the mantle, his shoulders starting to shake. Kevin looked like he was considering pounding his head against that very same mantle. The Sergeant Major was nowhere in sight, having fled the scene. Every woman in the room was staring, their gaze rapt.

Doris's rather bulgy blue eyes got big, bigger, and she turned her head to look toward the doorway, and she licked her lips, and she gulped. Her voice was a bit higher pitched now, almost reedy, "oh . . . Yes . . . Well, that makes sense. . . I can certainly understand . . ." Then her voice changed a bit, back to that shrill tone she thought was a whisper, "Meg? He, I mean . . . All night?? Really???" And then her voice dropped closer to what a true whisper would be, "Oh, my goodness . . ."

The party broke up almost immediately, the look in Kevin Richards' eye promising something, maybe retribution, maybe a big bouquet of flowers, she wasn't quite sure, but she figured she'd find out soon enough. She WAS pretty sure she wouldn't be invited to any more such gatherings, not if HE had any say about it!

As the group filed past the common room, they seemed to slow, and there wasn't a woman in the group who didn't take at least one appraising look in, focusing on the slender blond Englishman. Doris actually stopped in her tracks at the open doorway and had to be given a little shove to get her moving again. {"Like a deer in the headlights,"} the redhead grinned to herself.

And, bless his heart, after she'd quickly side stepped into the common room, when they were all still well within earshot, he said in a chiding voice, just barely loud enough they could hear without straining, "now, thought all that was supposed to be OUR secret, luv!! Tween you and the job, don't 'AVE any free time to spare, you know!" and if she hadn't been totally in love with him before, well, that would have put paid to it.

And she put her arms around his neck, he snugged her up close with his arms around her waist, both of them wearing those totally shit-eating grins that made the team occasionally want to pound them, and lapsed into a deep kiss that not even Doris and Julie, reappearing at the doorway could interrupt, and somehow the arrangement of their lower bodies, well there seemed no doubt that he indeed did sometimes need that extra 'space' from what the shadows of their bodies seemed to indicate.

The two women looked at the couple, took a closer look, eyebrows trying to meet their hairlines, swallowed deeply and looked at each other and scurried away, and Craig swore he heard just a bit of a high-pitched whimper from the tall brunette!

He knew it wasn't proper military discipline, but after he'd shown them all to the door, he took the Sergeant Major back to the the Common Room, after he'd made a stop in his office. "Gentlemen, 'PEGGY', drinks all around!" and the next hour was much more enjoyable that the previous one had been. Though he had to wonder why Goniff wasn't totally embarrassed at what she'd said, {"I mean, you think he would be, at the sheer silliness of it all. It's not as if . . ."} and he got just a bit of a puzzled frown on his face as he looked over at the two of them, and something about the same smug expression on each of their faces, well . . . Actor was teasing her about running a lovely con; the others were drinking and laughing along with him as she agreed with him, well satisfied with herself. The laughter had quieted, had changed to amused smiles, and when that happened, and yes, she had waited for it, just as she'd been taught, she looked up at him.

"I learned the art of the con from Gabrielle Lucien, Actor. You would know of her, of course, perhaps met her?," receiving a newly appreciative look and nod in return. "She is legendary, a true artiste. She always said it was close to PERFECT when you could run a con with delicate misdirection, and let the mark make their own assumptions." She looked over at Goniff, who was grinning back at her, and looked up at Actor's smiling face and purred, "but she told me the PERFECT con? the sweetest one, the one you never forget? well, that is the one when you tell the absolute total truth, and it serves the same purpose." And the look on her face was, well, indescribable, as she turned to look at the small blond English pickpocket, "I never realized before now just how right she was."

Silence. And the smile was gone from Actor's face, to be replaced with a stunned stare. And the smug look on Goniff's face, matched with the triumphant glory of her own, that put more questions into their minds than they answered, to be sure. Even Casino couldn't think of anything to say.

 

***

"An all-night-man? Not that I've anything to be ashamed of, but don't you think you might 'ave been exaggerating just a bit, luv," he asked her with a low chuckle, laying next to her in that big bed in the Cottage, stroking one long hand down her side, onto her hip and thigh. Nary a stitch did either of them have on, nor feel the need of, and the pleasure and the sharing had been generous, indeed bountiful, to be sure, and if not all night, well, now in the aftermath, it was certainly a great deal later than it had been when they had entered the bedroom.

And the face looking at him, her eyes, went from shared amusement to something much more serious. "No, I don't. We share music and reading and tea and talk, and I feel as deeply cherished as I could hope to feel. We share passion and loving and caring and touching and completion, and I cannot imagine feeling more loved. We share warmth and holding and in the middle of the night I hear those soft little mutterings of yours," and she reached out to brush a soft kiss to his cheek, "and I feel as safe and contented as I could ever imagine. We wake in the morning, to touch, and love and share and appreciate each other all over again, and I cannot imagine how much sweeter it could be. Doesn't that, at the very least, constitute 'all night', if not more?" and he laughed at her gently, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.

"That's not what she was thinking you meant, luv, you know that, not what you led 'er to think."

"Yes, well I believe there are carved ivory imitations out there for the purchase if she's looking for THAT all night long," and she paused to stroke him gently, all soft and hard and warm, totally unlike ivory, and he shuddered in eager response even this soon, "it's not to my account if she's such a fool as to think that's all that's involved, you know, or fail to appreciate the whole." And she cupped his face in the palm of her other hand, and lost herself in his eyes, then his lips, and in the warmth of his body, aye, and in all else that he offered her, her all-night-man.


End file.
